


Universes Were Made Because of You

by decomposing_brain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski-centric, What Happens After, ouch this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decomposing_brain/pseuds/decomposing_brain
Summary: There was an empty parking space at the Sheriff’s house. He sold the jeep two months ago to a broke college student, agreed on the price of five hundred dollars because it just barely ran and he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. The second bedroom door on the left was permanently closed, keys thrown in a dresser to collect dust. It reminded them of what it had been like when they had forgotten him, when the door was thick with wallpaper instead of wood, but at least he had still been alive then.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski
Comments: 11
Kudos: 170





	Universes Were Made Because of You

There was an empty parking space at the Sheriff’s house. He sold the jeep two months ago to a broke college student, agreed on the price of five hundred dollars because it just barely ran and he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. The second bedroom door on the left was permanently closed, keys thrown in a dresser to collect dust. It reminded them of what it had been like when they had forgotten him, when the door was thick with wallpaper instead of wood, but at least he had still been alive then.

The Sheriff found out first. It was storming, rain pouring down like god himself was sobbing, and the Sheriff took a moment to stand, breath and tell himself that everything, that everyone would be okay. When he came back, soaked and with someone else’s blood on his hands he didn’t cry. He picked up piles of paperwork and started writing. Parrish had come back with him, barely standing himself, to force the Sheriff out, to tell him to go home, to tell him there was nothing else he could do but for some reason the words came out gargled and muddy. So that night, in the dim light of the station, with the rain mocking them overhead, Parrish watched as the Sheriff filled out the incident report. One fatality, it read.

The kicker was that it wasn’t even something supernatural. It was a drunk driver, aged 39, Daniel Reif, driving home from a bachelor party. He had a blood alcohol level of .208, a party hat on his head, and he had missed a red light. He had been going sixty when he made impact with the drivers side of another car. He passed out in his seat, car barely in tact, but he had walked away with a broken arm and a concussion. The other driver had left in a body bag.

_“Daddy,” he had said when he woke up from the nightmares, drenched in sweat. The Sheriff would pull himself over him, rest his head over top of him and will the pain to go away._

_“Dadd-io” He had said through a mouthful of food that he would never let his father eat, “I’m good for him,” it was casual, like he wasn’t with a man five years older than him, like love was plain and simple, “he’s good for me.” and so the Sheriff had nodded, because he couldn’t pretend not to see the way the bags under his son’s eyes had faded, the way his smile matched the one he wore before Claudia died, before werewolves, before the nogitsune._

_So the Sheriff steeled himself, because he always had to play the intimidating father role and said, “He’s coming to dinner tomorrow,” and he had smiled bright in response, threatened to hide the shotguns and handed his dad a curly fry._

_“Dad,” he had said, this time comforting his father. He moved the empty bottle away, looked at the date on the calendar. Wordlessly the Sheriff was pulled into a hug, and with eyes spinning from tears and alcohol he held on tight. “I’ve got you,” he had said, and then, “I miss her too,”  
The Sheriff held him like he was grounding him, hands gripping the back of his shirt. He had let himself sit in the pale light that washed out his son, had let him talk for the first time about the things he remembered and had let the deep color of his eyes feel like home. They had lost a lot, had lost enough, but as long as the Sheriff had him, he would never feel hopeless._

_“Dad,” he had said, shrugging on an overshirt and opening the front door, “I’m going to Derek’s, and don’t even think about it, Deb will tell me if you get takeout for dinner,” his words were met with a roll of the eyes._

_The last thing the Sheriff said to him was, “Don’t forget your keys.”_

Scott was at home. His mom had just gotten back from her shift, walked in two hours too early because her hands were shaking too much to put an IV in. She told him over the sound of white noise that it had been quick. That the car hit and in an instant he stopped breathing. That he hadn’t suffered. Scott broke his hand punching the wall in his room. It didn’t matter though. He could heal. He would be okay.

_“You’re my brother,” he had said, whiskey eyes turning red in the haze of light, “so if you’re gonna do this, then I guess you’re just gonna have to take me with you.”_

_“You’re my brother,” he had said, punching Scott on the shoulder, morning light hitting, dancing across the planes of his face. He had walked out of Derek’s apartment with a purpling bruise on his collarbone and a tint to his cheeks, and Scott had reared back. He had never seen the way they talked and moved around each other, had never looked closely enough because he didn’t think it was even a possibility. But for the first time Scott was watching his best friend fall for someone like Scott had with Allison so he let him continue, “that’s not gonna change Scotty-boy. Even if the sex is incredible,” Scott had gagged and pinched Stiles, but he was his brother so he could do that._

_“You’re my brother,” Scott had said, eyes a little watery but that was what you do when something life changing is going to happen, “Duh I want you to be my best man,”_

_He had laughed, pulled Scott into a hug, “Okay but,” he had said after a moment as he stood back, hands still on Scott’s shoulders and looking at him with proud eyes, and this was why Scott loved him. This was why Scott had stayed up with him until not even the stars looked bright talking about things only they understood. This was why Scott let him put a joint in his hand and sit on the roof of the car feeling like the world was too big and too small at the same time. This was why Scott had threatened murder when they went off to different colleges if he didn’t call every week. This was why he was the first person he told when he realized he wanted to ask Allison to marry him. This was why he couldn’t wait to get old, and throw back a couple of beers as he watched their kids grow up together. This was why they were brothers, “don’t be mad when I show up wearing a bright blue tux.”_

“Someone needs to tell Derek.” Scott breathed out. He could barely get the words out of his mouth, gasping around air that he couldn’t seem to breath. It was exactly like it had felt when he was human. “They need to tell him, mom, they need to tell him.” Scott fell to the floor hands wrapped around dark hair, sobbing so hard it felt like his chest was trying to split open. This was a wound he could never see himself recovering from.

When Lydia found out she didn’t just cry, she screamed. Her books were wrinkled with pages upon pages of research shoved haphazardly in and scrawled across with someone else’s spindly writing. She sat in the shower and held one, ink running towards the drain. Lydia didn’t move until two hours had passed, then she got out of the shower, got dressed, and pulled herself together. There was no time for a Martin to feel pain, so she settled for the next best thing, feeling nothing at all.

_“Lydia!” He had yelled across the parking lot, running up to her, “I got in!” He was breathless, hair unruly from the wind, a thick white packet flapping in his hand._

_“As if you wouldn’t,” she teased back, patted him on the head. There was never a doubt in her mind that they would be leaving Beacon Hills together. She let him sling an arm around her shoulder, face lined with unbridled joy._

_“We’re gonna have the time of our lives,” He had said, flipping open the paper to show her the bright red accepted, and she knew he was already planning out their apartment, making up scenarios of late nights out and kissing strangers in the dark._

_And because his excitement was so contagious she leaned in close, the cuff of his jacket tickling her nose, “yeah we are,”  
Lydia Martin was never one to let people glimpse behind her carefully crafted persona but around him she never had to pretend. So she bought him a milkshake to celebrate and watched him map out their lives while she listened, taken aback by how much he felt like family._

_“Lydia, I love you and you’re a goddess among women,” He had taken a breath, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, “but you have got to ease up a little.”_

_Lydia gave him a deadpan look, blunt as always and kept watching the way he fiddled with his hands. Her opinion meant a lot to him, and his happiness meant a lot to her, “I love him,” he had finished with, voice incredibly soft now. He usually didn’t do soft._

_She had turned soft too, always did when he was around, “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” and then he had looked up at her, at the way she was placing soft hands over his and Lydia had sighed in defeat,“but,” she had said, “I suppose he has proven to be an asset,”_

_And he had grinned then, bright and beautiful and full of life because that was about as close as he would get to Lydia giving her his blessing, and said, “more like his ass-ets, if you know what I mean,” and Lydia walked away to the ringing sound of his laughter._

Parrish was the one who drove to Derek’s apartment. It was lit up from the inside, like he was expecting someone. He had barely knocked before the door was flying open, green eyes going wide, and then red. Parrish had never seen someone break, someone fall apart as if their last lifeline was suddenly, inconceivably lost. Parrish knew now, as he crowded over Derek, trying to utter calming words, what it looked like when a man lost the one thing he had ever wanted to hold on to.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd were all together. Parrish called the house and Isaac picked up, big dopey eyes spitting with laughter at the pot of pasta Erica had somehow burnt on the stove. He picked up on the sixth ring, almost missed the call and he could do nothing but stand. Erica came into the living growling. She could feel the grief on Isaac from the other room, and he spoke out two words that had her collapsing back into a chair. Boyd threw the spatula in his hand. They left the stove on for half an hour before anyone could get up to go turn it off.

_“Nooo,” he had said, staring dejectedly at yoshi’s first place medal streaking across the screen, “how are you so good at this Boyd, you literally talk like you’re from the eighteenth century,”_

_They had collapsed in the loft after fending off another pack, complete with bruises and scrapes but they had healed, had won the fight. It was with slow, gangly limbs that he had turned on the TV, had wrapped himself around the pack in an effort to ease their minds. The supernatural always left them battle weary, left them feeling empty. He was the one who filled that hole._

_“No I don’t.” Boyd rolled his eyes, but they could see a slight tilt to his mouth, as he watched him throw down the controller and lean back to sprawl across the ground._

_“Pfft, okay,” sparks danced across his face, “Isaac, don’t you think Boyd would look good in a petticoat and a big white wig,” he gestured to the top of his head and mimicked scratching at nonexistent hair. Issac snorted._

_“Boyd would look good in anything,” Erica walked into the room and bent down to place a kiss on Boyd’s head, then moved over to ruffle the other two men’s hair. He had laughed and pulled Erica down to the ground with him, handing her the discarded controller._

_“See what you say after he beats you twenty seven times.” Mirth filled his eyes, lip jutted out._

_“Oh sweetie, that is just sad.” She cuddled into his side._

_“Says the cocker spaniel from lady in the tramp,” He shot back, and Isaac laughed again, the first time he had laughed since showering the blood off of him. Issac moved over to sprawl across Erica and long, pale legs. Boyd moved towards them too, sitting back a little but huddling close. They might be up against witches and vampires and the mix but nothing made them feel quite so human as he did._

Scott walked all the way to Derek’s house the next morning, because he couldn’t get in a car without seeing twisted blue metal and rain. He tried for hours, banging on the door, claws out and eyes coloring. Derek hadn’t opened the door. The lights were off.

Allison got the call in the middle of a meeting. She was interning at some up and coming banking firm, preparing to come back to Beacon Hills at the end of the winter, planning to get married to Scott that summer. Scott called, and she hit decline. When he called the third time she excused herself from the room. The first thing she heard, phone up to her ear, was a sob. The news that came after didn’t sound any less painful. She headed home the next day, and couldn’t even answer the stewardess as manicured hands silently refilled her martini glass.

_“I’m sorry,” he had said. It was the first time they had been alone since the nogitsune, the first time he had trusted himself to be alone with her. He looked better now, still pale and tired but not as lifeless as before._

_She had turned to him then, confused, “What? Why?” He scratched the back of his head, looked away, something that had rubbed off on Scott when the two were uncomfortable._

_“You almost died Allison,” now his voice was rough, creased with pain and grief. She stood up and took his head in her hands._

_“I did,” She forced his eyes onto her, almost keeled over when she saw just how much regret was in them, “but, not because of you. That wasn’t you.” She knew, logically that he understood but sometimes a reminder helped, sometimes you needed to hear it from the person you were most scared of getting an answer from._

_“I- it was in me- it was my body,”_

_“It hurt me just as much as it hurt you,” she carded a hand through his hair, something her mother used to do that she assumed he hadn’t had much experience with, “you were a victim too,” She let him cry in her arms that night, and she cried with him for all that they had gone through. Often, it was best to let the pain bleed out in the way you held on to the people you loved._

They looked for Derek. His apartment was always dark, Boyd had staked it out over a weekend and when Derek hadn’t returned they had all let thoughts of a funeral and what’s the point of stupid fucking flowers anymore fill their heads. No one had really expected to lose more than one person when they lost him. But then again, he had been what had made their hearts pump blood red.

They let Jackson know through an overseas phone call.

He was the bane of Jackson Whittemore’s life. He talked too loud, sometimes he chewed with his mouth open, fired back with his quick wit when Jackson had nothing left to say. He didn’t care about cliques, or social structures, didn’t give a fuck about what would happen to him when he found half a dead body in the woods and it made Jackson angry. He was always there, getting too deep into Jackson’s personal space, saying things no one else wanted to say. But the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about him was that as soon as Jackson left Beacon Hills he realized he actually liked him.

When Jackson went off to London he left behind the part of him that created his anger, the part of him that let it build up until he was boiling, spitting oil and grease on anyone who looked at him wrong. Without the people, without his parents, without the life that had been made by someone else he could just be Jackson. He called him last, two years after leaving and told him he was sorry. It was a short conversation but somehow at the end of it Jackson found himself smiling. He hadn’t changed in those two years, was a little harder, had a deeper voice, but still wedged himself in the silence like a fly you couldn’t get rid of. He was still human, had never wanted to be anything but human - Jackson guessed that was why it was so easy for him to die.

_He was home for summer break, taking a breather before college. Nothing was the same in London, all busy streets and yellow taxi cabs and humans but the pack still held him. It beckoned to him across the world like fishing line tugging lightly on his fingers. He took a seat in front of them,_

_“I’m gay.” Jackson had said to his pack, to his makeshift, fucked up family. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for them to look at him like his parents had. It was funny how right then the supernatural seemed so much less absurd than something so normal. After all, he was Jackson Whittemore, asshole, douchebag extraordinaire, snd sometimes he thought it didn’t make sense that his knees went weak at strong hands and deep voices. It was quiet for a beat and then he, all loud and reckless and diving in headfirst to water he shouldn’t even be near in the first place, spoke,_

_“No way dude me too,” Jackson had watched the pack, had seen the way their eyes had lightened up in shy shock, “well bi- but gay is an umbrella term,” Apparently this was just as much news to the others as it was to him. “Anyways,” he continued, ignoring the stares, blundering past them with no finesse, “are we ordering three cheese pizzas or do we want some toppings?”_

_Jackson had gaped, looking around at the other open mouths. The conversation about dinner was picked up quickly and before they left the room, soft hands patting him on the shoulder in comfort, his ex arch nemesis slid up to him._

_“You look happy,” he had said. He didn’t explain, just let the words sit because they both knew Jackson had changed. Jackson had looked at him, really looked at him for the first time and found him just the way he used to be; crass and disruptive and couldn’t take a hint for shit, but so incredibly him. Jackson smiled._

_“I am.”_

_“Yeah,” he had said, looking back towards the kitchen where Derek was glaring down at a piece of paper like he was about to set it on fire, “I am too,” Jackson didn’t get it, could see the anger and frustration still festering under Derek’s skin and felt like he was watching two wrong pieces of a puzzle try to fit together. But then, Jackson had thought, when had anything about the spastic human made sense. He was too much to handle and awful at focusing but if anyone could lose half the pieces of a puzzle and still make it look beautiful it would be him._

Lydia was the one who found Derek. He was near the pond they always went to, laying down in the grass half shifted with nothing in his eyes. She laid down next to him. They had never really gotten along, hadn’t had anything in common besides him, but now he was gone and the status of their relationship didn’t seem so important anymore. Lydia told him she wished it was anyone else, anyone other than the one thing that stuck them all together. She grabbed his hand and held. Derek was motionless apropos of the hand lightly squeezing back.  
Derek went back to his house. There was a box of poptarts in his pantry he was never going to eat and the fifth harry potter DVD laying upright on his coffee table.

_“Dude, I know I’m just human but c’mon you gotta admit that I’m a resource.” he had growled._

_“Too dangerous.” Derek had said, in a timbre that meant there was no room to argue, “you’re staying here.”_

_“I can fight.”_

_“Barely.”_

_“Fuck you, just because I don’t have crazy superpowers doesn’t mean I can’t help.” He had looked down at his hands, picking on loose skin that wasn’t there, “just because I’m not pack doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you guys.”_

_Everyone had looked at him with shock, had never known, because if there was one person they would define as important it was him. Protests filled the room before finally one low voice broke out._

_“You idiot of course you’re pack.” Derek said it like he had said the fight was too dangerous, “we can’t lose you. That’s why you’re staying here.”_

_“You know when I proposed movie nights I kinda thought it would be more than just us showing up,” He had huffed, and Derek huffed right back, let him in. Scott and Allison were busy being in love and everyone else had work early the next morning. But every Sunday, without fail he was always at Derek’s holding up a DVD that no one could stop him from putting in._

_“Wanna make popcorn,” He had asked halfway through the movie while Derek pretended he hadn’t been paying more attention to the jittery movements of the other man’s hands than the TV. Derek had nodded, let him stand. Like most other things involving him Derek was helpless to the way the other man invaded his life. He had made himself at home in a cold room and pitiful company and Derek had let him._

_He came back with the popcorn, sat close enough to Derek that they could feel each other’s heat. That night Derek fell asleep with brown hair tickling his nose and the walls he had spent years building falling to pieces._

_“Derek you asshole!” his had said, voice tinny with the metallic sounds of the phone, “how could you not tell me it was your birthday?” Derek grumbled. He hadn’t celebrated his birthday since the fire, hadn’t wanted to anyways._

_“Who told you?”_

_“Doesn’t matter,” Derek heard rustling coming from the other line, “I’m coming over immediately, and you’re cheating on your diet.”  
He had come over within minutes, a haphazard looking cupcake balanced tediously over a pile of Star Wars films. It was the first Birthday Derek had felt something other than lonely since the fire._

_“Derek, what the hell?” He had demanded, Derek’s eyes glowing with liquid heat. His arm was held within a strong grasp, useless protests falling on angry ears as Derek dragged him away from the other man. They stopped outside of the club, silence growing louder in the low pulsing of music and raw, undeniable tension, “what was that for?” he demanded, all spitting and extreme just like he always was. Derek shut his eyes, willed them to a placating green and looked at the younger man._

_“He was flirting with you.” Because Derek didn’t have words to explain what he felt, didn’t know how to tell him the way he had let another person look at him, touch him made his heart stop. He had never felt so lost for control in his life. He had never let himself be given up so irrationally to another person, another human at that._

_“So fucking what,” He had spat back, and it reminded Derek too much of how he looked when he was pushed up against walls, “maybe I wanted him to,”_

_Derek snarled, let the wolf take over. There was no nothing else you could do when you had to sit back and watch the very reason you wanted to live, chose to walk away._

_“Derek,” He had whispered, sitting up in the hospital bed, gown swallowing his pale frame, “I’m okay, really.” Derek closed his eyes, willing the wolf in him to calm down, “It’s just a scratch,” He felt a hand run across his head, pulling him in close for a light kiss before his eyes met brown, “I’m still here.” Derek breathed in his scent, cinnamon spice and warm vanilla. Derek was never letting him go after this. He would never let him get hurt again._

_“Derek,” he had said eyes closed, “I fuckin- jesus, I love you.” His body was thrumming with anxiety ready to turn, run out of the room , “I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen years old, and I haven’t fucking stopped,” Derek could barely hear him over the rush of disbelief in his own head, over the pain and heartache that was relieved with such a simple statement. He opened his mouth to speak but the younger man overtook the silence,  
“And I’ve tried to stop, believe me I have, but you’re so smart and funny- even though no one understands your super weird dark humor, and you’re so fucking beautiful, and a good fucking person.” He trailed off, words coming out in short sporadic breaths as he finished, “I know you don’t get it, you probably don’t even want me to say this because you have our pack and everything works great just the way it is, but I can’t keep pretending everythings fine when you don’t know and,” he inhaled sharply, “I love you. What else am I supposed to do?”_

_It was complicated, they both knew it was. They had been in and out of each other’s lives, had seen other people, done different things, but somehow, someway they always ended up coming back to each other. So, as he turned to walk away Derek had grabbed his arm and pulled him back to him, hopefully this time to stay._

_“I love you,” Derek had whispered into his ear for the first time. The words ‘finally’ and ‘home’ repeated over and over in his head._

_“Oh my god daad,” He had whined, pointing at the Sheriff with his fork, trying to force the strict look off of his father’s face with pure willpower, “you said you’d be nice.”_

_“Sorry kiddo,” Sheriff leaned back, eyed Derek across the table, “only child means I get to be overprotective,” Derek was glued to his seat, heard the teasing lilt to the Sheriff’s voice but couldn’t help thinking about the case of guns in the other room._

_He felt a hand on his, “Don’t even pretend you don’t think Derek’s super badass,”_

_“Well,” the Sheriff scratched a hand across his chin, “at least he’s not a suspect for homicide anymore,” Derek heard a bark of laughter coming from the seat next to him. He smiled._

_That night as he reached for the door to go home the Sheriff had stopped him, “Welcome to the family Derek.” he had said, and then, “don’t fuck it up,” but it was light because they both knew he never would._

_Derek drove home wondering when he had replaced lonely nights with clinking glasses, when he had left behind pain for passion. As his car stalled in front of his apartment and he looked at the boy across from him with food still on his face from dinner he realized just what had caused him to finally be able to breathe again._

_“Derek,” He had said, voice soft as he brushed a bare arm against his own, “can you tell me about them,” Derek could sense the hesitation, feel it in the way his slender fingers stopped moving against his chest, “you’re family?” and so Derek did. He talked about them for hours, about the way Laura would always tease him about his ears, the way his mom got mad when he didn’t fold his socks when the laundry was done, how his dad would make him go grocery shopping with him every single weekend. By the time he stopped talking the other man was looking at him with warmth, and grief and everything Derek had ever felt about the life he once had._

_“My mom would have loved you,” Derek breathed into his shoulder then, head curled away to keep their words safe, between the two of them, “she always liked the smartasses,” and he had beamed, burning sad, sweet and soft like a sunset._

_“I would have loved her too,” He had said. Derek couldn’t sense a lie in the word and he pulled him closer, “I mean she gave me you.”_

Derek didn’t go to the funeral. Scott had showed up at his house the next night and told him it was beautiful, that they had buried him right next to his mom, that Lydia had pulled some strings and gotten an actual quartet to play Canon in D because it was one of his mom’s old favorites. They had flowers, tons of them, and the scent was overwhelming, and there were too many people there that didn’t really know him. Derek shut the door in his face and walked back inside.

_“Stiles,” he had said, and it was so quiet that he was worried the other boy wouldn’t hear it. They were sprawled across his bed, feet tangled together, “I wanna marry you,” and he had glanced over, had watched him get up, the bed immediately cooling. Before the panic could set in, the utter fear of losing something he wanted so badly, the other boy was flopping back down, hand closed around a small brown box._

_“I bought this last month dumbass,” He was giving Derek a wide smile, the one that looked like fireworks, “of course you had to one up me,” and Derek had pulled him in for a kiss because he was afraid if he tried to explain what he was feeling his voice would break. Nothing had ever felt quite like the sun until he got close enough for it to burn._

Scott and Allison had their wedding in the summer two years later. They had pushed the date back further and further until finally Allison got scared that Scott would look too much like he had in the glow of a flare, and she dragged him with her to Colorado. They lived in a small two bedroom apartment because that was all they could afford, but the bustling noise of the traffic outside helped Scott sleep at night. They decided that they would come home for the celebration, because even though Colorado was nice, it was too far away from their past to feel right.  
They all came back to Beacon Hills, Jackson flying in from London, Lydia from Chicago, Boyd, Erica and Isaac from some tropical island they had been visiting. They all hated the rain, got chills when it started pouring.

The Sheriff still had his house, but he rarely used it, always said it felt too empty. He had taken time off work, bought an RV and went traveling for a year, but nothing seemed to completely fill that space. He and Melissa had their one year anniversary last winter, had spent it sitting in a restaurant as the snow fell outside. She had taken his hand in hers, had thought of Scott and Allison, and children and had willed the pain to go away just like he had always done with his son.

The best man’s seat was empty, somber and silent in a place that never should have been. Derek showed up halfway through the ceremony. He sat down silently in the back, watched Scott and Allison exchange their vows.

He stayed for the first couple of songs and sat down at the Sheriff’s table. Derek didn’t know the Sheriff had been away from Beacon Hills, congratulated him on his relationship with Melissa. The Sheriff learned that Derek was finding odd jobs, sleeping in odd places, but doing well for himself. As the family danced behind them, sweet songs filtering in over scuffed up speakers and Derek got up to leave the Sheriff gave him one last long look,

“You look me up next time you’re in town,” Derek nodded even though they both knew he wasn’t coming back and the Sheriff smiled, “you’re always family Derek. He made sure of that.”

He left the wedding and went to the cemetery for the first time. The sun was shuddering hesitantly over him, like it was giving Derek some privacy, and he crouched down in dry grass. “Hey,” he said. The slab of granite was silent, and he didn’t really know how to do this when he was the one doing all of the talking, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you, I- I went away for a while.” He took a breath, staring at the stone and thinking of how different it was from the way Stiles was always filling universes with his voice, “I just wanted to let you know that I need to go,” he sighed then, because he had always forced the words out of Derek, had made him talk just like he was doing now, “It’s not- I’m alright, I went to Scott’s wedding and it was really beautiful. He’s still just as in love with Allison as he was when you left, and Boyd and Erica and Isaac, they’re all good. They keep going- I don’t really know- but they like the sun, they’ve been to so many beaches now. And you’re dad and Melissa that’s- well I know you thought it was going to happen but they’re really happy together, and Jackson’s still a douchebag but I guess he’s tolerable. He has a new boyfriend, that’s just- wow, I thought you were loud. Lydia’s in this program doing something that will change the world I’m sure.” Derek trailed off, wiped some of the wetness from his eyes, “and I- yeah- I’m doing okay. I go around, help out with the supernatural like you always wanted to. There was this one case a couple weeks ago, you would have figured it out in five minutes but it took me a week,” he let the word fall off for a moment, staring, “I love you, and I know you’d be pissed and tell me to move on but it still hurts so much. I keep thinking about our wedding and how perfect you would have looked. We would have kids. Definitely a dog,” the granite stared back at him, ” The earth was getting cold now, shying back into the shadows of nighttime and Derek reached a hand out to rest gently above a carved name, “I miss you so goddamn much,”

The sun winked and disappeared behind him. For the first time in two years Derek let himself fall apart all over again. He would leave after that, get the hell out of Beacon Hills, call the Sheriff when things got slow, send gifts for Scott and Allison’s anniversaries but he wouldn’t come back. He turned away from the grave, looked up at Stiles name and let himself breathe in the world that this scrawny, obnoxious beautiful boy had given him.


End file.
